Chapter Seven
"You came back." Kronos sounded surprised and smugly confident at the same time. The net effect on Methos' stretched nerves was less grating than it would have been the day before. A good night's sleep had gone a long way to rebuilding his emotional defences. Truly, Kronos' gleeful sarcasm was the least of his worries right now.
"Yes, well, I'd rather not have to keep looking over my shoulder for you for the next thousand years." Methos slouched further into the power station as he returned the opening salvo.
"My dear brother, you won't have to look far to find me, I'll be right beside you, every step of the way." With that statement, Kronos finally turned to face Methos fully, enjoying the sullen look that graced his brother's mobile face. Crossing his arms over his chest, Kronos leaned his hips against the table behind him and crossed his booted feet. "Once I win this wager, I plan to keep you near me always."
Methos quickly repressed the shudder that thoughts of Kronos' nearness produced. He asked himself, once again, why he had agreed to meet on the Horseman's ground? They could just as easily have finalized details of the contest elsewhere. Shaking his head, Methos realized just how far off his game he had been the night before. Good thing I've got it together now, he thought.
"Right, always … whatever." Methos brushed Kronos' words away with a gesture of one long-fingered hand. Stopping well outside Kronos' reach, Methos shoved his hands in his jeans pocket, looking the picture of relaxation. "Let's get this over with, shall we? The less time I spend here, the better."
"What's wrong, brother, does my mere presence taint the air you breathe?" Kronos moved slowly away from the table as he spoke and began to prowl the room like a panther. "Afraid your new friends might see us together? Wouldn't want to be seen with one of the bad guys?"
Methos was doing his best to maintain his façade of disinterest as Kronos circled the room. He clenched his jaw to resist turning his head to track the movement, but couldn't help stiffening when his adversary moved directly behind him. So intent was he, that he almost didn't notice Kronos' stealthy approach.
"Well, brother?" Kronos breathed in Methos' ear. "Cat got your tongue?" He seemed disappointed when Methos did not startle at his closeness, but grinned slyly as he felt his brother's back muscles tense.
Methos counted mentally to five before moving smoothly away from Kronos. "If you're done playing? Good." Spinning, he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Here are the locations of Silas and Caspian, as promised. It took some work, but I tracked them down."
Kronos moved sinuously into Methos' personal space again. "So, you weren't trying to buy time last night. I am somewhat disappointed in you brother, I expected more obstacles." Kronos tapped the folded paper thoughtfully against his lips. "You have given me much more information than you usually do. Perhaps you don't want to win? Hmm?"
"You might want to read that before you gloat," Methos said dryly, struggling not to pull away from the leather-jacketed menace in front of him. He watched closely as Kronos read the paper, noting the darkening gaze and the muscle that twitched next to the scar as the truth sank in.
"You have given me nothing! What use are they on the other side of the world?" Kronos stalked away from Methos as he yelled. Turning on his heel, he faced Methos once more. "What trickery is this?" The quiet tone seemed more threatening than the previous shouting, and Methos swallowed.
"No trick. I said I would give you their locations, I never claimed they lived down the street." The drawling sound of his own voice comforted Methos. "I'm willing to … delay our contest to give you time to fetch your team." By the end of the sentence, Methos sounded so bored with the whole exchange he almost convinced himself. Unconsciously, he straightened and pulled his hands out of his pockets.
"One week, Kronos. I'll give you one week to gather the other Horsemen. Eight days from now we meet at a facility of my choice to settle our wager. If you do not appear at the appointed place and time, I shall assume that you forfeit. I do believe that concludes our discussion for today, so, if you'll excuse me, I have things to do." Methos began to walk calmly toward the door, but was stopped halfway there by Kronos' laughter.
"Now that is the Methos I remember, always plotting, trying to gain the advantage. Using word games to claim victory. And you say you have changed." Kronos laughed harshly once more.
"If I were still the person I was then, I would arrange to have you killed while you fetched the others. You should be thankful I've changed, it's increased your life expectancy." Methos' hands clenched as he tried to ignore the fact that just such a plan had occurred to him that morning. Only the inherent difficulties involved in finding headhunters on such short notice had stopped him from pursuing the plan further.
"Methos, only you would consider getting soft and lazy a change for the better." Kronos continued to chuckle. "It was a woman, wasn't it? Silly question, its always a woman with you. First Cassandra, now that little chit … What was her name, Alexa?" Kronos narrowed his eyes as he spoke, watching for the reaction that was sure to come.
"Don't you EVER speak that name again!" Methos exploded into action, crossing the floor to grab Kronos by the lapels of his jacket. "I don't know who told you about that, but you are never to mention her to me again, do you understand?" He gave Kronos a shake for emphasis.
"No one 'told me' about her, I saw her for myself." The self-satisfaction in Kronos' tone was evident, and it shook Methos. Clearly, there was more to come. "Did you think I found you by accident brother? I first saw you in Greece, on the arm of a beautiful young mortal. I have tracked you since then. I thought of killing her when you left her on Santorini, but one of my employees discovered she was already dying. I had time," he finished smugly, "so I decided to wait."
Kronos never saw the blow coming. One minute, Methos had him by the jacket, the next he was laying on the floor, gingerly touching his sore jaw. "Well," he complained, "that was surprising."
"Get up you bastard, I'm not done yet." Methos stood above him, fists clenched, pupils dilated, breathing heavily. As Kronos regained his feet, Methos lashed out again. Prepared this time, Kronos ducked the first punch. Setting his feet, he began to dodge. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage somehow.
Methos had thrown the first blow in rage. The same could be said for the second and the third, but by the time Kronos had dodged the fourth blow, Methos' calculating mind had settled somewhat. He quickly controlled his breathing and began to plan his attack.
Feinting with his left hand, Methos landed an open-handed blow to the side of Kronos' head. While that had his opponent distracted, he followed through with a sharp rap to the solar plexus. Breathing deeply, he deflected the kick Kronos levelled at his ribs, and spinning with the force of the kick, he drove his left elbow into the back of Kronos' head. He caught the hand that lashed out at him, snapping two fingers quickly.
At the sound of the breaking bones, Methos felt a surge of joy sing through his blood. As Kronos attempted to pull his injured hand back, Methos drove two fingers into the pressure point at the shoulder joint. Kronos' scream brought a small grin to Methos' face. Dropping the arm, he stepped back and drove a kick through Kronos' kneecap. The grin widened and his breathing deepened even more.
Kronos felt his knee dislocate, and crumpled to the ground, cradling his broken fingers. They were already healing, but the knee would take a little longer. Methos circled him like a bird of prey, deciding where to next rend flesh from bone. Before Kronos could fully react, a hand had snapped out, rocking his head back with the force of the blow. Blood poured from his broken nose as Methos hovered over him, right hand pulled back with fingers stiffened, ready to drive the killing blow into the larynx.
During the frozen moment, Kronos noted the dilated pupils, the flared nostrils, and the heaving chest of his opponent. This, he thought triumphantly, was the Methos he knew, the cold killer who dismantled his opponents to enjoy their pain. His own heart rate, already responding to the fight and the pain, increased even more.
"Do it," he urged. "Kill me brother, and when I revive, we will celebrate the reunion of the Horsemen."
As the words left his mouth, Kronos knew he had spoken too soon. Panic flared briefly in the eyes above his before they were shuttered. Methos lowered his raised hand, and flexed his fingers. Stepping away and searching blindly for the door, he looked momentarily lost. Beginning toward the exit he had finally located, Methos heard Kronos speak behind him, pitch rising as Methos continued to walk away.
"Leave brother, for now. But remember that I was correct. You have not changed as much as you think. Death hovers at your shoulder now. He will ride again."